


one;

by kinneyb



Series: i found love where it wasn't supposed to be [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, M/M, Slow Burn, Werewolf Jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:15:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22596154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: A simple job gets a little more complicated when Geralt stumbles upon a young man--victim?--named Jaskier.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: i found love where it wasn't supposed to be [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1625914
Comments: 10
Kudos: 230





	one;

**Author's Note:**

> this is written nothing like my other stuff but i wanted to try smth different and idk... i kind of like it?? anyway this is a new series that i am /very/ excited about - if u've been searching for a canonverse slow burn geraskier romance... u came to the right place 
> 
> twitter: queermight  
> tumblr: korrmin

Geralt’s wandering a path deep in the woods, exhausted, when he’s stopped by a group of men,

his first reaction, of course, is to reach for his sword,

but one of the man quickly scurries closer, hands in the air in surrender,

“please, Witcher,” he says, “we just need your help.”

Geralt hesitates, looks at each man, most of them old and graying, and the fear is evident in their eyes,

so he puts his hand back down, gripping Roach’s reins and waits.

“There’s been a werewolf,” the man explains, “terrorizing our village,”

and that makes sense, then, why he had found them so deep in the woods,

“How do you know it’s a werewolf?” he asks,

The man stands a little taller. “I saw it,” he says. “Clear as day. It’s killing our livestock and we’re afraid soon our children will be in danger, too,”

Geralt clams up a little at the mention of kids, like he always does,

thinks vaguely of his Child Surprise, the princess he’s never met, and squashes down the guilt he feels,

“How much?” he asks, and the man looks confused for a second before he’s scrambling forward and offering a pouch,

Geralt takes it. It’s heavy. The mans watches him, obviously waiting,

“I’ll do it,” he says finally and all of the men look at each other in relief, shoulders slumping, “lead me to your village,” he commands.

Geralt follows them on foot, leading Roach.

The man, the one who addressed him first, likely the leader, talks the whole way,

“It’s a small place,” he’s saying when he nods and a few of the other men part some trees, “but it’s home.”

He leads him through the trees and Geralt squints at the sun,

before his vision focuses and he’s looking into the face of dozens of villagers,

mostly young women, children cradled in their arms or hugging their legs,

“I found us help,” the man says as he walks forward and a young woman rushes forward, hugging him,

“Dad, thank Gods you’re okay,” she breathes and Geralt watches them, silent,

Geralt is used to being stared at like he’s an anomaly because he is, in a way,

but it’s always a little unsettling–no, _upsetting_ , when he offers to help but is met with such looks,

judgment mixing with fear and leaving him with a sour taste in his mouth.

“Let me introduce myself,” the man says,

and it’s only then Geralt realizes he never even got _his_ name or vice versa,

but he assumes the man knows of him from the stories, the legends,

most all of which were lies but Geralt never bothered disproving them.

“I’m Tedrovit,” the man says before pulling his daughter closer, “and this is Ezira.”

Ezira reminds him vaguely of Renfri and the realization makes him feel,

 _something_ ,

he’s not sure what, it’s been years–decades–since the incident with Renfri.

But she’s young and she has hard eyes, watching him, not like he’s a threat, exactly,

but like she’s curious and sees right through him,

Geralt hates it and looks away.

“Everyone,” Tedrovit says roughly, “introduce yourselves.”

So Geralt stands there, silent, as most of the village steps forward, one by one, introducing themselves,

there’s lots of elderly, he realizes, but just as many children,

bright-eyed and both scared and excited by the newness of a visitor,

Geralt waits until the last person introduces herself before he speaks,

“I’m assuming you all know who I am,” he says simply.

Tedrovit smiles, tight, and nods,

“Indeed, Witcher,” he says, “and I’m so glad we found you when we did.”

Geralt nods, once, curt. “Is there somewhere I can put my stuff?”

Tedrovit looks over at Ezira and has a silent conversation, Geralt can tell,

before she huffs and smiles, all fake, and says, “follow me, Witcher.”

He tugs on Roach’s reins and follows her deep into the village, where she stops in front of a small cottage and opens the door,

and Geralt smells fresh bread and his stomach grumbles,

Ezira looks at him with an odd expression before turning away,

he follows, silent, as she leads him to a small room, barely a closet,

“You can put your stuff in here,” she says, hands on her hips.

Geralt raises an eyebrow, mostly just amused, as he puts his things down,

“Do you usually treat your guests with such hostility?” he asks dryly.

Ezira hmphs as she turns away and stomps down the hall without replying,

Geralt follows her a few seconds later, stopping in the doorway to a small kitchen,

his stomach lurches with hunger as he sees the loaf of bread she’s holding,

“I told my father a Witcher was bad news,” she says bluntly, “but there’s no talking him out of something once he’s set on it,” she continues, placing the bread on the table,

“Come,” she says, “get some while it’s hot,”

and Geralt doesn’t need to be told twice, he’s _starving_ , so he rushes over and pulls a piece off,

Ezira watches him as he inhales it, a look of disgust on her pretty face,

“What?” he asks after he’s had a few more pieces, swallowing audibly, mouth dry,

like she’s reading his mind, she turns and picks up a canister of water, offering it,

Geralt gulps it without a care because he can smell it’s just water, untouched,

“Can you kill it?” she asks after a moment,

and he pauses, mulling it over, “I’ve killed werewolves before,” he says finally,

Ezira almost smirks. “That’s not a yes,” she points out,

and he does smirk, shrugging, “but it’s not a no, is it?” he says right back,

and then she is smiling, just barely,

but before they can say much more, the door opens and her father is there,

“Please,” he says, “before it gets dark,” he shivers, “we can’t take another night of this,”

Geralt nods and follows him out of the cottage,

he stiffens when he sees Roach surrounded by kids,

his first instinct is protectiveness for his horse before he realizes the kids are just playing, admiring her,

and he softens, turning his attention to the villager,

“Where do the attacks usually happen?” he asks,

and Tedrovit leads him to one of the few barns in the village,

“This is where the last attack took place,” he says, “there’s still–”

Geralt looks inside and grimaces at the foul odor of death,

there are bodies of pigs, of goats, of sheep, all dead and drained of blood,

“Sorry,” Tedrovit says, sounding almost embarrassed, when Geralt is finished looking, “we didn’t know what to do with the bodies,”

Geralt hmms. “This is good,” he says. “We can use the bodies for bait,”

Tedrovit nods quickly, and Geralt knows he'd probably agree with anything he said,

“I’ll be taking one then,” he says as he steps into the barn and picks up one of the carcasses–a pig–heaving it over his shoulder,

Tedrovit is staring at him with wide eyes when he steps back out,

“I’ll set bait in the woods,” he explains simply, “safer for the villagers,”

and Tedrovit looks relieved as he nods again, wringing his hands,

“Thank you, Witcher,” he says, and Geralt can tell he means it, and–

and, well, Geralt has never been good with _sincerity_ ,

he simply nods at the man before he turns, pausing to say, “take care of Roach, I’ll be back.”

“Yes, of course,” the man replies,

and Geralt, satisfied, walks into the thicket of trees, entering the woods.

He finds a clearing and sets the body of the pig down, grimacing at the blood on his armor,

before he sits down and pulls his swords off his back, setting them in his lap,

now it’s a waiting game,

Geralt waits for what feels like almost an hour when he finally hears something,

rustling, a few feet away, in some bushes,

he stands up, slow, and draws one of his swords, eyeing the bushes,

waiting,

and finally _something_ jumps out,

but it’s a small rabbit, hardly a threat, and Geralt frowns, lowers his sword,

the rabbit hops closer and looks at him with beady, dark eyes,

and Geralt almost feels like the poor thing is trying to communicate with him,

but Witchers have many talents and communicating with animals is not one of them.

Kneeling, he looks the rabbit over and notices blood in its fur, matting it,

Geralt looks into his eyes and realizes with a startling clarity it’s asking for _help_ ,

and he barely has time to get back to his feet before he’s being tackled,

he sees the rabbit jump away out of the corner of his eye,

feeling weirdly comforted,

before he looks up into the face of a werewolf.

Werewolves are depicted as many things,

but the only word Geralt thinks, looking at it, is _ugly_ ,

Geralt stares into the face of it, ugly and hairy and they’re drooling on him like a dog,

his fingers twitch around the hilt of his sword, and the damned thing notices,

jumps back a few feet and watches him, _daring_ him,

Geralt stands up slowly and points his sword at it, “Go,” he commands, “leave and you won’t be killed,”

but the monster doesn’t listen, the werewolf lunges forward, fangs bared,

Geralt aims for the werewolf’s gut but the thing is fast, they always are,

and the werewolf dodges, scrambling back in the dirt, and Geralt frowns,

“I don’t want to kill you,” he says truthfully.

The werewolf doesn’t look even slightly human in the moment, a monster through and through,

Geralt knows his words aren’t being heard and he sighs,

he has no other option, he realizes, and it’s always a sad conclusion,

he lifts his sword just as the werewolf lunges for him again and he stabs the werewolf right through the shoulder,

yelping, the werewolf falls to the ground and rolls in the dirt, howling in pain,

Geralt steps closer, standing over them, “Will you leave no–”

he doesn’t even get his question out before the werewolf is back on their paws,

he prepares for another attack, digging his heels in the dirt,

but the werewolf surprises him by turning and running deeper into the woods,

Geralt considers his options for a moment before running after them.

He follows the werewolf easily, the monster obviously slowed by their injury,

finally the werewolf stops and Geralt notices they’re at a cave, their home,

“Please,” Geralt says, “you don't have to do this,”

the werewolf turns, slow, and Geralt hopes they’ll do the right thing,

just _go_ ,

find a new home,

but the werewolf lunges at him and he swings his sword,

and the werewolf falls on the ground with a wet _thud_ , and Geralt watches as blood runs out of the werewolf’s body,

staining the grass,

Geralt frowns, closes his eyes, takes a deep breath,

and that’s when he hears it: something scurrying in the cave,

Geralt opens his eyes and wonders, hopes the werewolf did not have a family,

some of them did, but most didn’t,

he takes a step forward, stepping over the werewolf’s limp body,

“Hello?” he calls, but he gets no answer.

Sheathing his sword, Geralt ducks inside the cave and looks around,

with his enhanced senses, he can easily see in the dark, scans the cave,

doesn’t see anything and frowns, turning away,

“Wait!” a voice, decidedly human, at least in the moment, calls out,

Geralt pauses and turns, slow,

a young man, shivering and naked, stands up near the back of the cave,

“Please,” he pleads, “help me,”

Geralt sees his eyelashes flutter and he rushes forward, catching him before he falls,

he stares at his face,

he’s young, that much is obvious, with dark, shaggy hair and freckles,

Geralt hmms, debating what to do,

werewolf or not, he can’t leave the young man by himself,

so he picks him up and gently puts him over his shoulder, turning and leaving the cave,

he stops for a moment and stares at the werewolf,

wonders briefly if the young man is related to it, but it’s unlikely,

it was dark, the moon out, and the man was decidedly human, no claws, no fangs.

Shaking his head, Geralt starts to walk, back the way he came,

he catches sight of the rabbit, burrowed in a thicket of bushes, and snorts,

“Your lucky day,” he remarks blandly and the rabbit startles, running off,

Geralt snorts again, adjusts the man on his shoulder, and continues walking.


End file.
